


After the War

by sporadic_obsession



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 15:33:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11443815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sporadic_obsession/pseuds/sporadic_obsession
Summary: So, Dean was not okay after Castiel died. And came back.





	After the War

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I was CC'ing someone on twitter and I made myself sad with a deancas headcanon... And my brain thought "why go to sleep so you can get up for work early tomorrow, when you can write a one-shot of that?" So. Here it is. Written on my phone, not proof-read, nothing.  
> Enjoy.

It had been a few weeks since Cas had returned. Or been brought back, really. Jack, despite being Lucifer's literal son, had turned out to be more of a copy of Castiel than his own father - maybe because his mother had been so kind, or because Cas had been the one protecting him while he was still in her womb. Of course, when Sam had first seen him, he hadn't thought that, but when he asked for Castiel and was told he had been killed, he hadn't hesitated to find him - still motionless, with Dean kneeled by his body, broken and empty - and bring him back to life. Dean had watched it, unmoving, because even though he knew he should be wary of this creature, this nephilim, and he knew that every action had its consequence, he couldn't stop hoping that Cas would come back. Like he did, every time.

From the moment Castiel reopened his eyes, taking a deep gulp of breath, Dean had been by his side. Every of his waking hours was spent around Castiel, making sure he was still alive and the cosmic consequences of his return hadn't caught up to them yet. He was working with Sam and, surprisingly, Jack in order to find a way to tap into the alternative universe Mary was stuck in, with Lucifer, but he didn't dare do it without Castiel by his side. He never said it, never asked him to stay, but he knew Castiel could tell that he wanted him to. That he needed him to. 

Of course, it was a whole different story at night. Much as he'd like to, Dean had no valid reason to drag Cas into his room and ask him to stay in his bed. He avoided doing that by himself, these days, spending too long researching, much as he loathe to, and falling asleep over a dozen books instead. But his exhaustion caught up to him eventually, and Sam, with Castiel's help, forced Dean to take a break for some much needed sleep. The problem was, Dean couldn't do it. As soon as he closed his eyes, he knew what he'd see - Cas, his light bright as it left him, his wings burning the ground in which he lay, dead. It was unavoidable. So, Dean lay in his bed and he fought off sleep, but it did him no good. Too soon, he was replaying the events in his head, seeing them loud, clear, and terriffying.

He was looking over Castiel's body when everything took a wild turn. He was no longer by the old cabin, but in that playground where Castiel had first confessed to him that he had doubts. It was a calm day, there were children playing and not a single cloud in the sky. He looked to his left, and he saw Castiel - same old trenchcoat and blue eyes alive as he watched humanity. But this wasn't a memory, Dean could tell; despite his glee as he watched the children play and the parents mill about their business, Dean could see a sadness in the angel's face - a sign of age that Castiel had gained when he'd first lost his grace.

"Dean," the angel said in a gruff, low whisper. "I hope you forgive me interfering. I sensed your distress, thought it best to intervene."

Dean looked ahead, just as Castiel was doing. He watched the kids jump on the monkeybars, took notice of a couple of mothers holding hands nearby. This was a good place to be, and he didn't begrudge Castiel for taking him here. He liked this place.

"Thanks, Cas," Dean replied in just as low of a voice. He wanted to say more, so much more, but he found that words failed him. He wanted to explain to the angel how much it had hurt to see him die, how badly he regretted never saying he loved him too... But he couldn't say a thing, even if he wanted to. His body felt heavy, warm, and he guessed he was finally going to be able to go into the deep sleep he needed. He wished he didn't have to, he wanted to be in this moment with his angel for a while longer.

"It's alright, Dean. I know," Castiel said, apropo to nothing. Dean looked over at him again and saw a faint smile on his lips; a rare event that had him smiling as well. The world around them began darkening, and Dean swore he could feel a pair of arms around him as Castiel's voice sounded closer, as if he was whispering in his ear. "Sleep, Dean. I'm right here."

So, sleep Dean did.

And if he woke up the next morning with Castiel still wrapped around him, and more rested than he had been in years, well. Sammy didn't need to know about it.


End file.
